Cat and Mouse
by bonniepatsy
Summary: Stiles finds a cat in the road. He names it, loves it, nurses it back to health (all while hiding it from his dad) only to find it severally injured the next day. What happens next is only the beginning. T for light gore and later chapters.
1. Chapter 1: Martin

Stiles turned down the street to his house, the Chinese food in the passenger seat making his mouth water. His father wasn't going to be home for a while so he felt the need to wait until he got home, but boy did it smell amazing. The Jeep shuddered and rattled as old Jeeps do. He turned into the driveway, turned the car off, and gathered the box dinner up in his arms, sneaking an egg roll. He slammed the car door and started up his front pathway when a faint rustling made him stop. Turning cautiously and fighting the urge to sprint, screaming into his home, he tried to find the source of the noise. Rusting, closer this time – he jerked his head towards the disturbance.

"Scott?" he whispered, praying to see his friend morphing out of the darkness.

"Derek?" his voice broke, "Isaac?" he squeaked. Just as he was about to run pell mell up the pathway a large tabby cat stumbled out of the high grass across the street. He let out a sigh, almost falling over from relief. The cat looked as if it was trying to cross the street. It staggered drunkenly, unable to work it's limbs properly. Headlights blared along the pavement. The cat, dazed, continued to stumble and limp diagonally across the road, seeming not to notice the on coming car. Stiles stopped, hypnotized by what was about to happen.

"Woah, hey!" shouted Stiles. "Hey!" But the car wasn't slowing. He dropped the food on the hood of his car and bolted into the street, warding the car around. The car wheels shrieked, jerking to the side just in time.

"Get out of the road!" roared the driver as he passed.

"Yeah, no problem." he shouted. "You almost hit an animal, no big deal." The car disappeared around a corner leaving Stiles and the cat alone in the street. He looked at the cat exasperated. "You could have gotten yourself killed." The cat swayed on the spot, trying to focus on Stiles' face. It looked scared, it's back hunched, it's ears went down, and it's pupils dilated. It was actually a really big cat, it came up to his knee. As it was about to skirt away, it's knees buckled and it fell over. It's breathing hitched and it's eyes closed. Stiles gulped, panicing.

"Hey, hey nonono. I just saved you. You're going to be okay." He heaved it into his arms. "Come on kitty. Okay." It was _heavy._He went up his front step and paused at the doorknob. Sheriff Stilinski wasn't a big fan of cats, they gave him allergies. But he couldn't just leave the thing in the street. He took the cat up to his room, grabbing a box and a bed sheet out of the closet on the way up. He placed the sheet in the box, put the box in the corner of his room and then called Scott. Scott spent so much time at a vets office, he could help. It rang twice.

"Whats up?" asked Scott.

"Hey, I need you to come over." Stiles said looking at the cat. It was breathing, but it twitched once or twice.

"Now?" said Scott confused.

"Yes, now."

"...I'm at work Stiles. I can't right now-"

"But thats great, I need some help. I found this cat, I think it's sick or something."

"Hold on." there was a pause on the other line. "Hello?" it was Dr. Deaton.

"Hi, Doc, listen. I found this cat wondering around. It doesn't have a collar, it's acting a little weird, kind of drunk, and I think it just fainted."

"Okay, can you take it's temperature?" he asked calmly.

"Yeah sure, hang on a sec." Stiles went into the bathroom and found a digital thermometer in the medicine cabinet.

"You'll also need some petroleum jelly." added Dr. Deaton. Stiles paused.

"You mean I have to-"

"Yes Stiles, that's how animals have their temperature taken." assured the Doc, amused. Stiles grimaced, grabbed some petroleum jelly and went back to his room. The cat was still unconscious. He shifted the cat to make it more comfortable. But that did not ease _his_ discomfort.

"Do I really have to... you know." he grumbled

"Stiles, depending on its temperature I can probably diagnose her over the phone."

Stiles grabbed a tissue from his desk, dabbed it in the jelly and spread it gently over the creatures backside.

"Well, its a boy." Stiles began. "And his temperature is..." he whistled. "104.1 degrees."

"Alright, a slight fever. Cats normally run about 102.5 degrees. Disorientation could just be from a glucose imbalance combined with fever. If you have some honey in the house, you should put some on a spoon and let him lick it off. No seizures? Feel his stomach, are there any bumps or lumps?"

"No seizures yet and..." Stiles glided his hands cautiously over the animal, checking thoroughly. "No bumps and or lumps."

"Alright Mr. Stilinski, I think he'll be just fine. If anything changes, bring him over. He needs some rest and some food, he's probably a little dehydrated. Do you have any fish, or rabbit meat? I doubt you have cat food on hand."

"Actually I bought some sushi with tuna and salmon in it for dinner."

"Excellent. Take out the fish, mix it with 1 raw egg yolk and a little olive oil. You can even mix in a little of the white rice. Lay out some water for him. Call me tomorrow to check how things are."

"Thanks Doc. I appreciate it." Stiles said relieved. He scratched the cat behind his ears.

"No problem, take care."

"You too." They hung up. He heard a car pull into the drive way. Uh-oh. He ran to the door.

"Stiles?" called the Sheriff.

"Yeah Dad?" he shouted back, coming down the stairs two at a time.

"You okay?" asked Sheriff Stilinski. Stiles rounded the corner to the kitchen and tried to play cool.

"Yeah, fine why?" he leaned nonchalantly against the door frame, awkwardly crossing his arms across his chest. His dad raised his eyebrows, looking suspicious.

"Well … you left $20 worth of takeout … on the hood of your car … and the door was open . . ." his eyes narrowed and he placed his hands on his hips. "There are tire marks on the road..."

Stiles sputtered, trying to buy time to figure out what to say, "Well, I have a um a test tomorrow and I needed to come in and I heard the phone ring and so I ran to answer in case, in case it was you calling-"

"Stiles." said the Sheriff, exhausted from his day at work.

"But hey, thanks . . . for bring it in. You know that test, I'm just going to take my food and eat up stairs, study and stuff." Stiles lunged forward and grabbed the sushi, and twisted himself around the chairs to the fridge where he tried to grab the honey, the oil and an egg. He then grabbed a bowl and turned to face his father. Sheriff Stilinski looked at the food and then at his son.

"Coach wants us to bulk up." Stiles supplied lamely "Honey. Raw eggs. Protein." he backed out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs. His father shook his head as he sifted through the bags of take out.

Stiles closed the door behind him, and walked over to the box. The cat was awake, it blinked weakly up at him.

"Hold on." he whispered. He went to the bathroom, filled the bowl with water. He placed the bowl in the box. He then opened the sushi, unrolled it, set the veggies aside in the cap, poured on some oil, grabbed a pen off his desk and stirred it together. After that he cracked the egg and placed the yolk on top. Not sure what to do with the shell and egg white, he paced the room before throwing it out the window. He mixed it all together with the pen and placed the tin next to the water in the box. The cat tried to focus on the food, his head swaying back and forth. Stiles watched impatiently before remembering the honey.

Unable to find a spoon, he dipped his finger in the honey and held it up to the cats nose. The cat gazed at him cautiously. For a long time neither of them moved, The cat stiffed his finger and then timidly licked it, staring at Stiles. Stiles kept perfectly still, not wanting to spook him. The cat licked all the honey off. Stiles hesitantly withdrew his hand, dipped it back in the honey and carefully offered some more to the creature. The cat ate a bit easier and even started to purr.

"You got a name?" Stiles murmured quietly. The cat purred, Stiles got some more honey. "How about... Martin?" Stiles considered the unhealthy fact that he was now naming pets after Lydia, but disregarded it seeing as how it was only temporary. Martin rubbed his head against Stiles' knuckles, purring incessantly. He was still very weak, his legs shook as he shimmed over to the food in the dish. Still wary, Martin stiffed it and looked at it for a long time before taking a tiny bite. His ears twitched and he debated for a long time before taking another bite. He switched to water and Stiles watched him.

He had a dog when he was really young, she died shortly after his mom. Heartbreak they said. He thought maybe that was the reason they didn't have pets. His need to keep Martin a secret increased 10 fold.

He pet Martin, and the cat leaned sleepily into his hand. After a while of petting and eating the cat seemed to be spent. His legs trembled and he lowered himself onto the sheet and quickly fell asleep.

Stiles stood up slowly so as not to disturb him and went onto his computer. His phone buzzed,

'Scott McCall: hows the cat?' it was a text. Stiles took a picture of Martin and sent it.

'Me: fine. sleeping.'

'Scott McCall: wOAH dUDE iT'S hUGE'

'Me: i know! he weighs lik 35 40 pounds'

'Scott McCall: did u name him?' Stiles paused before typing

'Me: martin. don't laugh'

'Scott McCall: lol no i wont'

'Scott McCall: no tags, no nothing?'

'Me: nope. nothing. he has this blueish lookinh fur I think he might be a hybrid or sumthing'

Stiles was searching the internet. 'blue tabby cats 40 lbs hybrid'. There was a link with a picture that looked a lot like Martin.

"_The F2 Blue Savannah Cat: Savannah Cats are a domesticated breed of cat with some degree of the the African Serval heritage. F2 Savannah kittens range in price form $4,000 to $6,000, sometimes more depending on the breeder. They range in size from 10 lbs – 25lbs. The Blue (sometimes referred to as 'silver' or 'smoke') can have spots, stripes, or a marble pattern on their coat. The body is long and lean with back legs slightly longer the their front legs and a head that is small in proportion compared to regular house cats. They love to play in water as are more prone to a mixed diet with an equal amount of greens, grains and meats. They can be trained to use the toilet and act a lot like dogs with a large amount of energy and companionship._"

'Me: have you ever heard of a savannah cat?'

'Scott McCall: i've never seen one but i know that their pretty expensive and like a substitute for people who want tigers and stuff.'

'Scott McCall: ...'

'Scott McCall: is martin a savannah cat?'

'Me: hes way outside the weight range but yea i think so.'

'Scott McCall: who ever lost him probably wants him back bad . . .'

'Me: yeah'

'Scott McCall: maybe he has one of this chip things for missing animals'

'Me: yea'

'Scott McCall: you want to keep him dont you? :)'

Stiles sat back in his chair. In that short time he had grown attached to him. Martins faint content breathing, stronger then before, crooned in the otherwise quiet room.

'Me: im going to do some homework. are you taking the bike or do you want me to drive you tomorrow?'

'Scott McCall: bike. talk to you soon?'

'Me: yeah good night man'

'Scott McCall: goodnight'

Stiles put down the phone, scratched his head, and stretched in the chair. A loud grumble came from his stomach. He glanced at the clock. 10:30. His dad was in his office by now, mulling over work. If he was really quiet he could probably sneak downstairs and microwave some of yesterday's pizza. Stiles eased himself out of the chair and crept downstairs, his socks proving to be excellent spy gear.

The end timer buzzed, Stiles turned around with the pizza and jumped. His father standing in the hall, looking at him with dubious skepticism. Stiles looked at his plate as if something he could say would be written in the cheese.

"Hungry?" asked the sheriff.

"Coach. Carbs." he answered. He nodded gawkily with an unconvincing smile before hedging past his father and up the stairs. He got his backpack from the corner of his room, took out a chemistry book and opened it to the chapter they were studying in class. He munched on the pizza absently. Half an hour later he had no idea what he had read and decided to go to bed. He went back downstairs, and took a cup of coffee into his father.

"'Night, Dad." he said.

"'Night, Stiles." said the Sheriff, lost in his paperwork. "Hey Stiles..." he yawed, Stiles turned around, almost out the door.

"Yeah Dad?" he asked, nervously.

"You don't have a girl up in your room do you?" asked the Sheriff, eyeing his son beadily. Stiles guffawed,

"What? Pssht, no Dad. Come on."

"Because I am the Sheriff, and I will find out if you were hiding someone up there" he tested, examining Stiles bad poker face.

"No Dad, I can safely say . . . there is not a girl in my room." he grinned toothily at his dad. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Son." sighed the Sheriff, picking the coffee off the table and taking a grateful swig.

Stiles awoke in the night to see the bathroom light on from under the cracked door in the hallway. A few moments later he heard a flush and the door creaked open. Martin slinked through the opening, looking up and down the hall before crossing into Stiles room. He froze when he saw Stiles looking at him. Stiles blinked confusedly, the cat tilted his head gazing at him. Stiles remembered reading that Savannah cats could be trained to use the toilet, and he was to tired to be fascinated. He flopped back into his sheets and watched as Martin walked painfully to the box, and hopped in. He watched the box and made clicking sounds with his tongue. Martins head peaked over the lip. Stiles continued his clicking and draped his arm lazily over the edge of his bed. Martin looked at him, his big eyes reflecting the moonlight. He stepped out of the box gingerly and slowly made his way over to Stiles' hand. He sniffed it, rubbed his face on it a few times and purred. Stiles patted the bed next to him. The cat twitched his ears and mewed pathetically, still to weak to get up by himself. The young man leaned over and picked Martin up. The cat lied down against Stiles' side and Stiles felt him purr, warm and content. They both were asleep within minutes.

The next morning stiles awoke to a knock on his bedroom door. Stiles sat bolt up, disturbing the cat who looked at him bewildered. Before he could even think, his dad opened the door. Stiles froze, waiting for his dad to get angry or go the dark place he went to when ever anything reminded him of his wife or both. But the cat had already leapt off the bed and hid in the box. The box and the cat were obscured from view by his desk.

"Stiles, I'm off to work, I'll see you tonight." said the Sheriff, oblivious to Stiles' inner turmoil. He seemed to be checking something on his phone.

"Yeah. Okay. See you. Later." he choked out. His dad nodded, closed the door and his footsteps echoed down the stairs.

"Have a great day at school, love you." he shouted

"Thanks! Love you too!" Stiles shouted back. The front door slammed and Stiles heard the car outside start up and exit the driveway. He looked at Martin.

"That was close." he breathed. Martin looked at him over the edge of the box. Stiles held up a finger. "Stay here, I'll bring you some food." Downstairs he grabbed a granola bar for himself and drank some milk from the carton and then got a bowl to make something for the cat. He found a can of tuna, an egg, and then a plastic bag of premixed salad. Remembering what the website said, he added some with the olive oil and mashed it all together with some leftover white rice from a takeout box.

He presented it happily to his house guest, who mewed appreciatively before eating the whole thing. Stiles showered, got dressed, and brushed his teeth, checking on the cat obsessively.

"I'm going to school, I'll be back in a couple hours. My dad wont be home until late." he told Martin, who did a convincing job of listening "I'm putting on some music so you have some company, sort of, I guess." He looked at the creature, a small tug in his heart. He named it. He was attached to the cat. He wanted to keep him. Suddenly the whole world sucked. "When I get back, I'm going to take you to the vet so we can find out who you belong to." Martin bowed his head and rested it on his paws, looking sadly at Stiles. He kneeled down next to the box and stroked the cat's head. He purred. "Sorry, buddy. I'm locking the doors behind me. See you when I get back." He stood up and swung his backpack over his shoulders. Martin flexed his paws and closed his eyes, getting ready for a long nap.

Stiles locked the door behind him got into his jeep and drove off. In his rearview mirror he saw Martin looking out the window, watching him leave. He felt really sad, he didn't want to give up Martin to some fussy fat pink-boa-wearing cat breeder (the person Stiles had concocted at Martin's owner). In class he was distracted, worried that Martin was having a seizure, or choking on his food or something.

"Hey Stiles." asked Scott. Stiles had been getting books out of locker when Scott came up to his left smiling.

"What if I don't want to give him away, Scott?" he demanded, frustrated, shoving books he didn't need into his backpack.

"Okay, um . . ." said his friend, confused.

"What if – he's happier with me, you know? What if, he ran away from home because his owners were mean to him? Okay how can I just turn him in?" he threw his bag over his shoulder dropping papers on the floor. Scott bent down to help him pick them up. He noticed Stiles' hands trembling.

"What if he's really sick? Or he's scared? He trusts me, you know, and I can't just hand him over to god knows who because-" his voice cracked and he sniffed.

"Stiles. Dr. Deaton just wants to make sure he's okay. Then we'll decide what to do." Scott reasoned. He handed Stiles his notes, and pretended not to notice Stiles wipe his eyes.

"Okay. Okay. You know I just want to know he's okay." Stiles stammered

"Okay, I'm sure he's fine. I'll meet you at the animal clinic after school okay?"

"Yeah, see you there."

The rest of the day passed quickly, but each minute droned on like any other high school. When the bell rang and Stiles almost sprinted to his car. He waved at Scott on his bike, who gave him the thumbs up.

Stiles started his car and started the familiar drive home. He was almost to his street when he thought he saw strange shadows out of the corner of his eyes. He slowed down, peering into the trees. When he saw nothing else he continue all the way home, pulled into his driveway and went to unlock the door. He went to put is key in the lock but found it open slightly already.

He pushed on the door, creeping into the house. His senses were alive, taking in everything. Nothing was out of place. He gabbed the lacrosse stick that was leaning against the wall buy the coats. He went up the stairs on his tiptoes, pushed his door open and gasped.

The sheets were torn off his bed, his closet doors were hanging by their hinges, books and papers were flung across the floor, drops of blood spattered on the walls and his window was open with the screen missing. Martins box was over turned, the water seeping across the floor, the sheets had smears of blood on them. He spun wildly around.

"Martin?!" he got down on his stomach and checked under the bed. "Martin?!" he ran to the window. "Martin!?" a faint pitiful meow drawled through the silence. Stiles sprinted down the stairs, and bolted out the door. "Martin!" he made clicking noised with his tongue, following Martin's feeble mewls. He dashed across the street shifting carefully through the tall grass until he found him.

All color left Stiles' face, he almost threw up. Martin was looking bad. Ghastly shreds raked across his belly, threatening to spill his intestines into the dirt. Patches of fur were missing and several scratches oozed blood into his thick fur. He whimpered.

Stiles took off his sweatshirt and gently lifted the cat into his arms. He rushed back to the car, settling Martin in the passenger's side and then peeled out of the driveway.

"Hang on buddy, it's going to be alright." he murmured, "Just sit tight, I'm going to take care of you." He ran two stop signs and scared at least three pedestrians in his flight to the clinic. He skidded into a parking space, dashed out of the car and sprinted through the front doors, clutching Martin for dear life.

"Stiles," began Dr. Deaton happily, "Scott isn't here yet, but . . . Stiles what's wrong?" he trailed off, taking in the full picture. Stiles was sweating, his hair plastered to his face, his eyes red, and he seemed unable to speak. It was then that the doctor noticed the blood dripping to the floor.

"Come to the back." he said sternly, switching to business mode. Stiles followed him quickly. "Set him down." Stiles placed him on the cold table as softly as possible. The doctor unwrapped the cat, who was wheezing in pain. He paused, stunned before snapping into action. He began opening drawers, and jars, gathering supplies. "Stiles, I need you to tell me what happened."

"I-I-I don't know. I-I just c-came home. My door w-was open. A-a-and there was blood. H-he was in the g-grass like that. T-thats how I f-found him." Stiles crossed his arms across his chest, his shirt soaked in blood, trembling from head to foot. "You g-gotta help him, Doc." he sniffed.

"Well, I'll do what I can." Dr. Deaton tactfully arranged Martin in a position so as better to treat him. He took out a needle. "This is just a local anesthetic." he deftly injected the cat with the painkillers. Martin's posture became less rigid and he stopped shaking. Scott walked in, and stopped in his tracks.

"Scott I need you to hold the cats head for me, please." demanded Dr. Deaton. Scott nodded, dropping his bag on the floor and whisked behind the table.

The second Scott touched him, Martins eyes flew open. He thrashed wildly, squeaking and wheezing. Scott backed away quickly, but something was already happening. The cats limbs were lengthening, the fur disappeared into porcelain skin and quite suddenly a voluptuous naked girl was on the table cloaked only by the sweatshirt, gasping and whimpering. She looked around wildly searching for something. Her hand shot out, and wound itself in Scott's shirt. She pulled him down, fixing him with a piercing gaze.

"You. Get. Derek." she rasped. "Please. I need. Derek." Stiles stood straight up, unable to even think at this point. He ran his fingers through his hair, tears falling from down his face. He knocked over several things, glass broke and lights flickered. Scott had already wolfed out but stayed still, waiting for further information from the strange girl.

"You need to lie still." called Dr. Deaton over the commotion. "You've been badly injured." She didn't seem to hear him.

"I have. To tell. He. He has to know." she was panting with the effort of remaining conscious. "You. You have. Have to tell him." her wide eyes pleaded with Scotts, willing him to understand. Scott put his hand on hers, looking intently at her.

"What? What does he have to know?" he whispered. She fought to keep him in focus, tears welling in her eyes. "I'll tell him. I'll go right now. What is it?" he asked earnestly.

"_He's coming_." her grip slackened and her breath shuddered. She sagged onto the table, unconscious. She was shrinking. Hair bloomed over her flesh, her face elongated and then she was just an ordinary cat.


	2. Chapter 2: Five

**DUUUUUDE! **

**Thanks for all the feedback guys, you blew up my inbox and TOTALLY made my day.**

**Unfortunately I won't be able to update this often. I have a summer job and I'm a REALLY slow typer.**

**But ... this was what I didn't post yesterday. I was waiting to see if I got a response (and boy did I get one.)**

**Sorry for any and all grammer mistakes and typos, I'm a lazy dyslexic so thats a recipe for failed english.**

**I'll try to update weekly if I can, but no promises.**

**Again thank you for your support 3 it means a lot.**

Scott was already out the door. Stiles was holding on to the operating table as if it was the last raft off the Titanic. Dr. Deaton was looking through a drawer on the other side of the room.

"Stiles." he called to him, his tone equally soothing and commanding, "I cannot treat her as a cat because there is the danger of her morphing into a human and injuring herself further, nor can I take her to the hospital where she will transform into cat when she is weak." he paused, "I need you to have a little courage." Dr. Deaton looked intently at Stiles, willing him to understand the gravity of the situation. "I'm going to force her into human consciousness. I need you to hold her down while I heal her. That means I will be stitching her up." he looked at Stiles with the harsh reality. "I do not have sufficient pain medication nor the time to obtain any. If I don't stop the bleeding, she will die."

Stiles breathing became ragged. He tried to suppress the dry heaves the smell of blood was already giving him.

"Can you do that for her?" Dr. Deaton's voice seemed to come from far away.

"Sure, Doc. Anything you say." Stiles gulped in air, careful not to breathe through his nose.

"Alright." Dr. Deaton opened a small glass vile and smeared a blue paste in a line down Martin's face. Her eyes flew open. Her legs stretched down, her arms stretched out, wild dark hair tumbled from her scalp. The girl was back. She looked about Stiles' age. Her eyes were a pale green, like peppermint, and were currently zooming around the room looking for an attacker. Stiles leaned over her. She focused on him, her body seemed to relax a bit.

"Hey." His voice cracked. He held her hand. "This is, this is Dr. Deaton. H-he's going to take care of you, okay? It's going to be alright, but you have to trust me." She squeezed his hand, tears drawing white lines in the blood on her face. He felt his lip tremble. "But it's going to hurt." He brushed hair out of her face with trembling fingers. "Don't worry, I'll be here the whole time. I won't leave you." She pulled his hand in hers to her face, pressing her lips to knuckles.

"Thank you, Stiles." She rasped.

Dr. Deaton was spreading a thick yellow sap over her wounds, disinfecting them.

"Ready?" He asked her. She nodded, eyes closed stoically. He looked at Stiles who took a deep breath.

"Ready."

Dr. Deaton started stitching. The veins stood out on Martin's neck as she tried to contain her screams. She convulsed involuntarily forcing Stiles to hold her down by her shoulders. She shuddered and twitched in agony, trying as hard as she could not to move. Stiles found a place on the wall to focus on, fearing he would be unable to continue should he realize what he was doing. Horrible sounds escaped with her rapid breathing, she hooked her legs around the base of the table. Some of the skin had already started to die in her speedy healing abilities. Dr. Deaton sniped it away with surgical scissors, too safely lost in his work to betray his emotions. He used tweezers to remove rocks and other things that had contaminated her wounds in the dirt.

Stiles couldn't help himself, he watched as the needle pushed and pulled her skin, closing the chasm where her vitals loomed dangerously close to the surface. The silver pin glinted off the light coming in from the window. She held onto Stiles as of he was the only solid thing left on earth. He was putting his full weight on her but in wasn't enough. Dr. Deaton added what weight he could but still she impulsively squirmed under the onslaught.

Soon her gasps died down to occasional whimpers. They were almost done. Dr. Deaton shot Stiles a wide eyed look. Stiles looked back, trying to understand what he was trying to convey. The doctor looked pointedly at Martin, whose head was turned into Stiles' arm. Stiles gripped her tighter, prepared for whatever Dr. Deaton was about to do. Dr. Deaton slipped one hand behind her back and rested the other under her breast. Her eyes shot open.

"No, wait!" She cried. There was a sickening snap. She screamed, jerking wildly, but Stiles hung on murmuring words of comfort. Dr. Deaton reset her ribs as she gasped pathetically, crying silently into Stiles arm.

"One more." sighed the doctor. She held on for dear life. Crack. Dr. Deaton set her leg. He moved on to bandage less deadly cuts and scraps. Stiles stroked her forehead tenderly, shushing and chanting in her ear. "It's done, you're okay, we're done, you're fine, no more, it's okay, it's okay."

Her breathing slowed and her eyes fluttered, but she fought sleep.

"It's alright." said Dr. Deaton "You can sleep now, you won't turn back."

Martin had no energy to even answer. Her flesh sank into the table, her body relaxed, she shuddered into a dreamless painless sleep. Dr. Deaton took a clean folded blanket out of a kennel and threw it over her.

"I think we should preserve her dignity, don't you agree Mr. Stilinski?"

Stiles nodded unable to speak. He slowly untangled himself from her, taking great care not to disturb her slumber. He stood up shakily, leaning against a counter top for support. The silence stretched on.

"I think I'll make myself a cup of tea, would you like one?" asked the doctor, looking concertedly at the young man. Stiles shook his head, still unable to find his voice. "I insist. You've been through a traumatic experience and I think you should sit down." Stiles nodded and made his way clumsily to the waiting room.

Stiles sat in one of the chairs, shaking uncontrollably, his head in his hands. Moments later he was brought a hot cup of tea.

"What is she, Doc?" he whispered, unable to attain anymore volume.

"There is no name for what she is." said the doctor quietly, taking a seat beside him. "You could call her a werecat if you wish, but thats not entirely accurate-"

"Doc, please. No riddles today." Stiles rubbed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "Just tell me." Dr. Deaton turned his mug in his hands, staring into it's depths.

"Her name is Five." he sighed. "Shes one of the Cat Walkers, or Cat People."

"Cat Walkers?" Stiles gulped. "What did this to her?" he breathed, unable to fathom who would hurt her.

"One of her pride I assume," said the doctor, lost in thought. "probably as a message to Derek." he paused, debating how much of the story to tell. "Cat Walkers and their prides are different then Werewolf packs. Their Alpha has absolute power over the group."

"So does Derek." objected Stiles.

"Not entirely." he reasoned. "Derek, like all Werewolf Alphas, has power only through respect, loyalty, and blood. Any one of his pack could leave if they wished, join a new pack, go solo. Cat Walkers are bound to their Alpha by ancient magic. They cannot leave unless he or she gives permission, or in rare cases, if they are bound to another. They have to obey the Alphas every command, cater to his or her needs, and serve them without question. Their happiness is solely dependent on their Alpha's." he paused, looking sadly at his tea. "This is not the first time Five has come here."

"She's trying to get away." Stiles voice cracked. Dr. Deaton nodded.

"Her Alpha, Renu, is a cruel man. Derek and her met when they were still young. She was sent first to infiltrate his pack. Derek's mother was Alpha at the time, and she took Five in, thinking that somehow the little girl had broken her enchantment. This was not the case."

Five stirred. The two froze, waiting for her to wake up or fall back to sleep. Her head lolled to the side and she fell back into dormancy.

"At some point her loyalties divided." Dr. Deaton continued. "She is still soul-bound to Renu, but someone . . . someone in the Hale pack broke her or claimed her enough to allow her to tell them everything. How Renu had sent her, what he was and what he was going to do, and because of her the Hales were prepared when Renu came."

"What was he going to do?" asked Stiles.

"Renu," started the doctor softly, "was going to massacre them all. The entire Hale line. The women, the children, wolf, human, everyone. And when he was done, he wanted their land as hunting ground."

"Hunting ground?" echoed Stiles, horrified.

"A Cat Walkers' prefered diet..." he turned to face Stiles, and ancient sadness in his eyes. "is people."

Stiles sat in silence. Unaware that he had stopped breathing. Small ripples formed in his untouched drink as he tried to comprehend what he had just been told.

"When a Cat Walker betrays their Alpha, the bond they share doubles to eliminate the possibility of it reoccurring." Dr. Deaton continued, "Later Renu attacked again, punishment for contaminating his pride, but Five escaped to warn the Hales of his attack one more. Renu was severally injured and forced to retreat."

"So 'He's coming' . . . Does she mean Renu?" asked Stiles. Dr. Deaton nodded

"I thinks it's safe to assume so." he pondered softly. "To my knowledge, Five caused quite a commotion in the unnatural world. The one thing an Alpha has to ask permission for is claim, and Five has always refused. Without claim she cannot access her true form, doomed to be either cat or human, never both. Renu has kept her out of spite for disobeying him, and a twisted love for her rebelliousness. She was his favorite." he paused. "If he banished her, she would die."

"Just like that?" Stiles asked softly.

"Unfortunately no, it's a very long and painful process. Months of incurable pain and sadness. She would starve, whither away or commit suicide." he stated blankly.

The sat in the waiting room quietly. Dr. Deaton and Stiles were lost in their own worlds. Stiles gazed at Five.

"Why is her name Five?"

"She was the fifth born in her litter." Dr. Deaton said simply. Out of everything, this put a fire in Stiles' belly. No one had even given her a real name. She looked so helpless, lying on the table, her brow furrowed from something in her dreams. He would find a way to free her, he promised himself. He had to.

The front door opened with a bang! Derek stormed in, followed by Scott and Isaac.

"Where is she?" Derek commanded, ablaze with purpose. He saw Five through the door way and swept towards her only to be blocked by Stiles. Both looked shocked by the predicament.

"Move." he demanded. "I don't ask twice." Danger flashed in Derek's eyes.

"S-she's sleeping, you can't go back there." Stiles stammered.

"Stiles." Derek picked him up by the front of his shirt. "Move." and he dropped him to his left, and went to go through. Stiles threw his arm out, trying to deter him again.

"She needs to rest Derek." Derek looked at him incredulously before shoving him hard in the chest to the side.

"Please Derek, she's hurt." Stiles protested, rubbing his shoulder. Derek paused at the door, scrutinizing the sleeping girl. He seemed to shrink a little bit, his hands flexed, and he slowly closed the door on her. He didn't move for a while, they all waited patiently. He turned to face Dr. Deaton.

"What. Happened." he growled.

"I was not the one who found her." the doctor replied cooly. There was always a tension between the Doc and Derek that no one quite understood, but it pulsed violently in the room like a heartbeat. Dr. Deaton pointed at Stiles, who looked a little scared but held his ground as Derek closed the space between them in three paces.

"Stiles, you have 60 seconds to tell me everything before I rip your throat out."

"Um. Just 60 seconds?" piped Stiles backing into the wall, "Because that seems kinda short to tell you all the things that-"

"50"

"Okay! Um, I found this cat in the road and it was kind of wobbling around, and then there was a car, and I took him uh her inside and then the Doc said to feed her fever and take her rabbits, then she left the bathroom light on and my dad thought I was sleeping around so we slept together-"

Derek pushed Stiles into the wall, growling angrily "She was a cat! She slept on my bed! I didn't know! It's a little awkward now because of the petroleum jelly, you know. Because... um then I went to school and Scott said she was B12 Blue Cat from Africa so I went home and my room was trashed and she was in the grass with her guts hanging out-"

Derek shoved him ruffly, holding Stiles up against the wall, his toes barely touching the floor. Stiles decided his time was almost up so he spoke quickly, his words overlapping each other. "Ahhhhhhhh. So I took her here, and she freakout when she saw Scott and then I had to hold her down while we stitched her up and thats all that happened." Derek started to let go but then Stiles remembered something, "Except for the shadows." Derek returned Stiles to his former altitude pressing him painfully into the concrete. "Oh my god, why do you have to do that?" Stiles whined.

"What about the shadows?" he barked.

"Owowow, okay, could you please be a bit more gentle?"

"STILES!"

"Okay! Alright. I saw some big things in the trees on the way home, I couldn't see what they were but they were there. Thats it, thats all, thats all I swear." Derek lowered Stiles to the ground, glaring at him.

Derek turned into the room, his forehead wrinkled with thought. Isaac blinked a couple times.

"I'm sorry, did that make sense? Because I couldn't follow that." he blurted.

"Derek we have to prepare-" started Dr. Deaton.

"We don't know for-" Derek reasoned

"Yes we do."

"Whats going on." Isaac asked

"Who is she Derek?" Scott broke in.

"We can answer that later, right now-"

"I want to know whats going on."

"Where did she come from?"

"Who's 'He' Derek?"

"Derek-"

"What do we do?"

"Derek-"

"Derek-"

"WHO IS 'HE' DEREK"

"Renu." They all turned to face Stiles. Something old had taken root in Stiles eyes, he seemed tired and sad. "His name is Renu."


	3. Chapter 3: Riddles

**Hey everyone! Sorry I left you hanging.**

**My Bad. Wont Happen Again.**

**I'm working on the next chapter right now!**

**How about last night's episode huh? Hoo pretty heavy stuff! **

***SPOILER ALERT* (Stiles and Lydia kissed! *Dies of feels*)**

**Anyway, thanks for sticking with me and for the reviews! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME!**

After a rather awkward silence Dr. Deaton rose. "I think we will be needing more tea." he mused and disappeared into his office. After another long minute, Isaac sniggered.

"Renu?" he snorted "That sounds like girls' shampoo."

"It's no laughing matter, Isaac." Derek boomed, rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Okay, sorry." said Isaac, subconsciously copying the motion.

"So . . . who is _she_?" asked Scott, jabbing his thumb towards the closed door.

"Her name is Five, she's a shape-shifter like us." Derek sighed, taking a seat on one of the flimsy chairs.

"But she's a cat." Scott remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"Wait - she's a cat?" asked Isaac confusedly, attempting to inconspicuously peek through the slim window on the door.

"Yes, she's a cat." Derek huffed, his patience dwindling.

"But you said she was a were-wolf."

"I said she was a shape-shifter, Isaac." shot Derek exasperated. "Obviously there is more then one shape to shift into."

"Please, gentleman." hushed Dr. Deaton, returning with a tray of mismatched mugs. "Let's not wake her with raised angry voices."

"Hey, Doc?" started Scott, taking a steaming cup.

"Yes, Scott?" he replied offering a cup to Derek, who refused.

"Could I call my mom? She might be able to help her, right?"

"An excellent idea, Scott. She may also be able to bring some painkillers as this particular type of injury will take a while to heal."

"Wait what?" interjected Stiles, seemingly coming out of a far off thought. "Doc, what do you mean? What do you mean it will take a while to heal? Like a day?

"No."

"... what do you mean 'No'? What does that mean? Wonderwolf over there would take like 2 hours to humpty dumpty magic themselves back from this. She's like the same, right? Right, Doc?" his voice broke, he spoke animatedly, his hands flailing "A couple hours? A day tops? Stop shaking your head! She's fine! I just watched her start healing myself! I HAD TO HOLD HER DOWN WHILE YOU UNHEALED HER DON'T TELL ME-STOP SHAKING YOUR HEAD! DOC!"

"I'm sorry, Stiles." he said coolly "She will need a great amount of attention. Her stitches will have to be changed twice a day so her skin doesn't heal over them. She will be in constant agony from her wounds, fever, hunger and the physio-emotional damage from having her blood shed by kin." he sat against the counter top. "Oh yes, it will take her a very long time to heal."

"Okay, like how long Doc?" Stiles urged, aggravated.

"Well, it's difficult to say." the Doctor turned calmly to face him, sensing hostility. "I should venture to guess that her fever will go away by the end of tomorrow, and she should be able to start to walk by the end of the week. However, the agony she feels could leave her weakened for several months, it may even never go away."

An invisible weight seemed to drag hang over the waiting room. No one moved.

"Never?" croaked Derek.

"It is a possibility. A very large possibility. One we should prepare for." said the Doc.

"Is there nothing we can do?" Scott stepped forward, looking crestfallen.

"No, Scott. I'm afraid this is an 'only time will tell' situation." Dr. Deaton said quietly

Derek rubbed his eyes, exhausted, but Stiles seemed to have more energy then ever.

"So, so what? That's it? Are we just go to sit here a-a-and sign her off? Are we all satisfied that that will be her life?" he roared.

"Stiles-" began Scott, his raising his hand as if to console.

"No!" Stiles jerked away from him, "No, thats not enough!"

There was a loud bang and the sound of breaking glass.

"Derek!" Five wailed. Derek was up, over the counter and opening the door before most of the party had realized the source of the noise, with Stiles hot on his heels.

Five was on her side, gipping the edge of the operating table. Her eyes flickered wildly around, disoriented in the bright light. "Derek!" she screamed again, unable to see him. Derek skidded on his knees next to the table, bringing his face close to hers, gripping her hand in his.

"I'm right here, I'm right here." he soothed. Her hand tightened on his until her knuckles were white. She seemed temporarily blind in the bright room, she blinked trying to find him.

"He's coming, Derek! He's coming!" her lip quivered. "He's coming. Derek, I'm so so sorry, he's coming. He's coming." she whispered.

"I know, I know, it's alright. It's going to alright. You're safe now." he smiled at her, trying to put her at ease.

"No, no." she hissed, and she started to cry. "Derek, no. You don't understand. He is not coming for me." she pulled him in close, her hand in his shirt like she had done with Scott, "He knows it was you," she rasped "he knows. Derek." Tears streamed down Five's face, she placed her hand on his cheek. "It's my fault."

"How?"

"You are the last Hale." she smiled weakly. "How else could I leave if it was not you?"

"It is not your fault." Derek whispered. Everyone stood on the outskirts of the room, giving them as much space as possible. Stiles watched anxiously, chewing on the neck of his shirt. Scott was texting his mom, asking her to come as soon as she could. Isaac switched back and forth from total unblinking stares, to looking everywhere but the girl. Whether his behavior was from the wounds, the blood, or the lack of clothing was unclear. Dr. Deaton was wiping his surgical equipment clean, unimpressed with the situation, but eavesdropping.

"It is." she whispered "It. Is." She gasped convulsively, her head jerked to the side. When her face was visible again her eyes burned a bright glowing green, her nostrils flared, and when she spoke, it sounded as if many voices were whispering out of the corners of the room. She stared at nothing, lost, her face and body twitching like a clockwork toy. Dr. Deaton flung his arm out, instinctively shielding the teenagers against the wall. The lights flickered and whistling sound of speeding wind rattled the windows in the eerie room.

"_I am always hungry._" she breathed. Derek stood still, as if frozen by her words. "_I must always be fed. The finger I touch, will soon turn_ _red._"

"Derek! Get back!" called Dr. Deaton. Isaac had wolfed out, Scott held him back. Stiles waited for someone to tell him to do something, tense and wide eyed. Five continued, her breathing ragged and uneven.

_"The creature that howls at the midnight sky, lost and gone in innocent cries. Not by blood, he died in me. I took him again, but he still lives free. Silver touches left him bare, but I will find my treasure there._"

She shuddered, her grip lessened on Derek's shirt, her arm went limp and fell against the cool table. She was unconscious. Her breathing became rapid. She twitched and huffed.

"Boys, out." Dr. Deaton commanded. He ushered them towards the door. "Scott is your mom coming?"

"She says she's on her way now." Scott stammered, trying to get a good look at the girl over the Doc's shoulder.

"Great, please wait here for her. Do not leave the premises. Isaac, Stiles, out. Now. Derek, you too." Derek, however seemed unable to move. Rooted to the spot by Five. With a surprising amount of strength, Dr. Deaton took his arm, hauled him to his feet and steered Derek out the door.

"Doc, I-"

"Now Stiles. Wait in the lobby if you must but leave the room." with a small shove he pushed Stiles out the door and closed it with a sharp snap. They all stood in shocked silence for a moment.

"What was that?" cried Isaac, throwing his arms in the air.

"A prophecy."

Everyone wheeled around. Unnoticed by them, Peter Hale had joined the fray, sitting in a chair, at ease with the world. Sitting across from him, looking the opposite of at ease, was Cora, Lydia and Allison.

"What are you doing here?" asked Scott. Lydia, who looked a little shell shocked, raised her hand.

"I was um, going home, and driving Allison home and we ended up here." she murmured. "Is there... Oh God, is there a body in there?" her voice broke. Allison put her arm around Lydia protectively. "There is, isn't there? Stiles, whose blood is that? Is it someone we know? Why - why are you all here already?"

"No, no it's not someone we know." said Stiles.

"Well." said Peter, with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Not all of us." That seemed to snap Derek out of his trance. They all looked at Derek.

"Why are you here?" Derek asked, glaring at Peter.

"I was merely passing. Caught a scent. How could I resist?" Instead of smug, which was obviously the face her was going for, Peter seemed hollow as if cold air was settling in his chest. "So, what mad adventure are we going on this time, nephew? What deadly, time consuming, last hurrah has your little kitten brought down on us?" he taunted "What riddle has she spouted so to tempt your fancies - that will lead us to nowhere where she will undoubtedly betrays us, again?" Peter looked up at the ceiling, his clenched jaw the only sign of his anger.

"She won't betray us." Derek said hoarsely.

"Oh no? Forgive me, but the odds are not with you." Peter drawled, still looking at the ceiling.

"You know that wasn't her fault." Peter leapt to his feet and was in Derek's face before anyone could react.

"Yes! Yes it_ was_!" Peter bellowed.

"Peter!" shouted Cora

"My sister! Your mother! Everyone is dead! Because of her!" Peter roared. No one had ever seen Peter lose control before. A frightening picture, it was suddenly apparent how strong and Alpha-like he was. Derek held his ground, everyone stood tensely by, ready to break up the fight.

"Peter," cautioned Allison, "your family's death was Kate Argent's fault. Remember?" her soothing tone starting to taint with aggression "She got the information from Mr. Myers and Mr. Harris? You came out of a coma to kill them? Remember?" Peter composed himself, his face blank.

"Miss Argent," Peter began, "on what planet was your dear Auntie ever clever enough to come up with it all herself? Hmm?" He turned maliciously toward her, cocking his eyebrow. "How did she know who to contact? Who did she know? And tell me, if she was that clever - why is it that Derek and his sister are still alive? Hmm?"

Allison stared at him, her brow furrowed as she tried to process this new information.

"Don't listen to him." Lydia hissed, and she glowered at Peter "He likes to play with your mind."

"My dear, if you think that I play mind games, you should meet the lucky lady behind Door Number One." Peter sneered, nodding towards the operating room. Moments passed. You could hear a pin drop. Suddenly the door opened and in came Mrs. McCall in her hospital scrubs and Chris Argent, looking armed and dangerous.

"Where?" asked Mrs. McCall, her fly away hair coming out of her neat ponytail. Scott pointed and Mrs. McCall bolted through the crowd, effectively separating Peter and Derek in the process. The door shut behind her, leaving an awkwardness in her wake.

"Dad, what are you-"

"GPS. On your phone. You were late coming home. I swear I only check in emergencies." he said, taking in the situation with a sweep of the room. "So, whats going on."

"I don't know." said Allison looking pointedly at the group. The looked at each other, waiting for one of them to answer the obvious question. Stiles, however was past all listening. He chewed on his shirt collar distractedly, trying to piece together the girl in the other room. She was a cat, a were-cat, not really, she was just a human who was sometimes a cat, she's trapped by her Alpha, her Alpha is evil, the Alpha has tried to kill people a lot, she protected those people, the Alpha kept her against her will, he (Stiles tried not to think _her_ too) ate people, Derek knew her, she knew the Hales, she's escaped before, she also apparently told prophesies, she was somehow connected to the Hale fire, she was alone, she was afraid, she was in pain, and right now she was in need of help. Stile's stomach churned. Peter didn't know anything. Dr. Deaton had said that she helped the Hales. Then again, Peter didn't seem like he was lying either.

Dr. Deaton opened the door, taking off bloody latex gloves. "Ah Lydia," he said, paying no attention to any other newcomers. "I have a girl here who has no means to obtain clothes. She seems to be about your size, would it be possible for you to perhaps-?"

"Sure, yeah." said Lydia, who looked thankful for a reason to leave. She grabbed her purse, taking out her keys.

"You shouldn't go alone." said Allison, standing to go with her.

"Agreed, Mr. Stilinski?" said Dr. Deaton, Stiles was jerked from his thoughts. "Would you accompany Miss Martin, please?"

"Ahh," said Stiles, looking at Allison and Lydia, and then to the divided werewolves, "if it's all the same Doc, I'd rather stay here." Stiles crossed his arms, as if they could protect him from protests. It was not effective.

"Stiles, there is nothing you can do here." coaxed the Doc. Stiles opened his mouth to retort, but the wild panic in Lydia's wide eyes caused him to nod and follow her out the door. He paused at the frame, gripping it, watching Lydia dash to her car. He spoke with his back to the room.

"If anything happens to her," he said, his voice low and serious, "by your hand or someone else's . . . I don't know what I'll do." he paused, sweat beading on his forehead, his eyes determined "But I do know that I know enough to not want me as an enemy." He calmly walked after Lydia, leaving the remaining group to look at each other, suspicious and defensive.


	4. Chapter 4: Fashion Sense

**Wont be updating again before the next Teen Wolf**

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**it really means a lot!**

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**because its not fair to you guys for me to keep doing cliff hangers but thats the only way I cant get myself to write**

**(I honestly don't know whats going to happen next so if I leave it at a cliff hanger I have to write to find out lol)**

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They drove in silence through the rain, Stiles and Lydia. Lydia flexed her fingers on the steering wheel, looking as if she was trying to calm herself down. Stiles gazed out the window, lost in thought. They stayed like that for a good 15 minutes.

"Okay, so are you going to tell me whats going on or not?" Lydia demanded shrilly.

"All I did was find a cat." Stiles shrugged, a little dazed. "What could possibly happen. It was a normal cat. Just a normal everyday lost, abandoned cat. Yeah, it was big and yeah, it was smart, and yeah, it flushed the toilet, but why? Why couldn't it have been a normal cat?" Stiles spoke animatedly, smacking the back of his hand into his palm. "You know, I try to be a good person, okay? I see a sick cat, my best friend works at an animal shelter, what could go wrong. A war? Yeah, totally logical, you find a stray cat, obviously theres a war coming!" Stiles cranked his window down in frustration, slouching in his seat.

"So, it's not just a cat?"

"No it's not just a cat, Lydia!" Stiles shouted exasperatedly "It's a brain-washed fugitive Cat-Walker from a rogue pride of really bad Cat-Walkers that eats people, and kills were-wolves!"

Lydia stared intently at the road, her eyes frozen wide. "Okay," she said finally, "then who am I getting clothes for?"

"Her, the cat."

"But if she eats people and kills were-wolves, why would I give her my clothes?" she asked confusedly.

"She's not the bad guy," Stiles replied frustratedly "she's friends with Derek and she got hurt trying to find him and warn him that her bad-ass Alpha is coming to get him."

"Why is the Alpha after Derek?" she asked.

"He wants the Hale's territory, and now since almost all the Hales are dead – I guess it seemed easier for him to take it now, I don't know."

"So how'd she get hurt?"

"One of her pride slashed her up while I was at school" Stiles sighed sadly. Lydia slammed on the breaks, Stiles was burned by his seatbelt, they stopped in the middle of the deserted highway. "Wh-what are you-!?"

"Take off your shirt." demanded Lydia, Stiles didn't move. "Now Stiles!" Stiles looked at her incredulously and did what she asked.

"You've got her blood all over you, you don't think they can smell that?" she scolded, and took his shirt as soon as he had it over his head. She reached into the glove compartment, took out a lighter, lit the shirt on fire and threw it out the window. Stiles choked out a protest but had to shut his mouth quickly because Lydia was spraying her perfume all over him. "Did you get any on your pants?" she asked. Stiles checked, repressing a sneeze "Nope, I'm good."

"Good." and Lydia drove on as if nothing happened. "Now fill me in on the details."

Stiles recounted all he could remember from the day before, how he found her, Dr. Deaton's story, and filled in some assumptions he had.

"Then she woke up and told Derek that Renu was coming," Stiles left out the intimacy of their conversation, feeling something that was a mixture of anger and jealousy "then she went all stiff and started spouting nonsense."

"Nonsense? Was she, like having a seizure or something?" Lydia asked as she pulled into her driveway.

"No, her eyes started glowing this neon green color and..." he mused, closing the car door behind him "she looked like she was possessed."

"Possessed?" squeaked Lydia, her hand pausing on her front door.

"Not really possessed, Lydia." Stiles said hurriedly, recalling Lydia's stint with Peter Hale. "Will your parents mind that I'm here?" he added, to change the subject. Lydia had a very big house.

"Nope, both at work, and neither care." she said, walking up the stairs to her room. Stiles followed hesitantly. He wasn't sure if he was invited into her room, girls were kind of picky that way. So when they arrived he decided he would lean against the doorway so he was neither in nor out.

"So, what's she like?" she asked, suddenly cheerful.

"...I'm sorry?" Stiles gulped, trying to not be too awkward and comb every inch of Lydia Martin's _Bedroom_ with his eyes.

"Catwoman. What's she like? I need to know how to dress her. What does she look like?" Lydia opened her closet purposefully, in her element.

"Well, uh, she about your size, maybe a little taller." Stiles began lamely.

"Okay," encouraged Lydia "Hair color, eye color, personality?"

"She's um... she has milky green eyes, lots of – lots of dark curly hair, she, she, I don't know Lydia, she was a cat the whole time I knew her, and when we actually had a conversation, she was screaming and bleeding everywhere." Stiles crossed his arms. "Do you have a shirt I could borrow?" he asked, suddenly aware of his nakedness.

Lydia reached up on her tiptoes to get a box off the top shelf in her closet labeled 'Jackson'. Stiles felt himself shrink a little. Jackson was a bigger guy then he was, plus his rival for several years in the quest for Lydia's heart, and also The last time they were all in a room together Lydia had proclaimed her love from him as he died. Sure he was alive and well now, but Jackson's clothes would be bigger on him and that made him self-conscious. But Lydia gave him a tee-shirt with a nice smile on her face and Stiles put it on gratefully.

"So, she's a fighter then? Someone who probably shouldn't be hindered by dresses. Also, she's in recovery, so comfortable clothes. She's taller then me, what type of skin does she have?" She asked, taking clothes out and holding them up to the mirror.

"Uhh, white."

"No I mean tone."

"... Caucasian?" he guessed. Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Okay, were her veins blueish or greenish under her skin."

"Blueish, I think." Stiles shrugged.

"Honestly, how do men even get dressed in the morning?" Lydia mumbled to herself, tossing a few more clothes on her bed. It wasn't too long before there was a fairly large pile and it didn't look like even a dent was made in Lydia's closet.

"Now, shoes!" she piped gleefully, "And some accessories!" Stiles smiled to himself. He often forgot this almost childlike side of Lydia. She was so often the genius, the banshee, the wack-o, the beauty, but rarely did she reveal this vulnerable young side to herself. Stiles felt a little warm spot in his chest looking at her fussing happily over matching the bracelets with jackets and belts. Lydia dug a suitcase out from under her bed and packed it expertly, fitting everything she felt was a necessity.

"Thats it, I think." she said, handing the surprisingly heavy bag to Stiles, whose knees buckled under it weight. She passed him out the door, her shoulder brushing his chest. He felt his heart pump in his ears. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw something. Turning back into the room, he recognized it instantly.

"Stiles?" called Lydia from the top of the stairs. She returned, "Whats wrong? Did I forget something?" she followed his eyes to the corner of her room, right between her dresser and the wall. She looked at him, blushing. Stiles face broke into a big crooked grin.

"Shut up." she scoffed, pushing him in the chest and heading toward the front door. Stiles followed her, heaving the bag but feeling lighter then air. Lydia had kept his birthday present.

They arrived at the clinic, Stiles took the suitcase out of the backseat and started towards the door. Realizing Lydia had not followed him, he looked around to see her still sitting in the driver's seat, hands clenched around the wheel. He put the bag down and walked casually back to the car. He leaned on her window.

"So, are you coming in or...?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah, no, yeah I'm coming in, just um, just..." she flexed her hands nervously on the wheel.

"Okay," he stood, guessing she needed a moment. "I'll see you inside?"

"Yeah, I'll be right in." said Lydia, a few octaves higher then normal. Stiles nodded, retrieved the bag and went in the back door, hoping to avoid the pack. Mrs. McCall was there, hooking up an IV. She smiled at him.

"Hey, Stiles." she said kindly.

"Hi, Mrs. McCall. How is she?" Stiles asked, putting the bag down.

"She'll be fine. I'm not going to lie though, it was pretty close." Mrs. McCall took Five's pulse.

"I, uh, I brought her some clothes. Well, they're not my clothes, they're Lydia's. Lydia's clothes. I brought her some of Lydia's... clothes. Well, Lydia brought her some of her clothes, I just carried the bag of clothes." he stammered.

"So, I'm guessing these are Lydia's clothes." Mrs. McCall smirked, gesturing to the suitcase. Stiles scratched the back of his head.

"Yeaaah." he sighed, not really knowing what else to say. Mrs. McCall pulled up a chair and tied a rubber band around Five's upper arm, slapped the back of her hand a bit and inserted the IV needle. Five gasped, her eyes fluttered. She coughed weakly.

"Stiles?" she croaked. Stiles felt as if he had been struck by lightning, he tripped over nothing in his effort to get to her and grabbed the counter for support.

"He's right here." murmured Mrs. McCall soothingly. Fives fingers opened and closed as if trying to grab something. "She's asked for you a couple times, but she's pretty out of it." Stiles almost floated over to her. He pulled up a stool and wove his fingers between hers.

"Stiles?" she moaned.

"Yeah, yeah it's me. I'm here." he reassured her, rubbing his thumb lightly across her knuckles.

"Hi," she sighed, it sounded like she wanted to laugh.

"Hi, yourself." he grinned sadly.

"My name is Five, " she turned her wrist a little, as if trying to shake his hand. "I am very glad to have met you."

"The pleasure is all mine, m'lady." said Stiles, softly shaking back.

"You saved me," she rasped, turning her head to look at him. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. "Twice. For that I am very grateful." Stiles shrugged.

"What else was I going to do?"

Five's brow furrowed, as if confused.

"You must forgive me, I did not mean to stain your honor. You have a good heart, I am not accustomed to the kindness of man." she smiled, "No, nor woman either." she nodded at Mrs. McCall, who smiled. "Thank you for your expertise, Lady Healer. And the Druid Male must receive my thanks as well."

"I will pass that along to him." said Mrs. McCall. She got up, Five's nostrils flared.

"Your son will be in need of medical attention, Lady Healer." she whispered "The Druid must examine the young wolf. I fear in my haste I may have scratched him." Mrs. McCall paused.

"I'm sure he'll be fine." she smiled amused, taking out some clothes from the suitcase.

"Healer, do not mistake me. Scratches are laughable on the likes of his kind, however when night falls, so will he. It will become poisonous if left unchecked." Five said seriously. Mrs. McCall looked at her, and nodded.

"My head feels heavy," said Five, blinking confusedly. With her IV hand she pushed herself up. The IV pulled. "What is this contraption?" she muttered, gazing at the clear tubing.

"It's called an IV." said Mrs. McCall, looking pointedly at Stiles, indicating he should avert his eyes. "It's helping with the pain." Five looked intently at it, unable to focus entirely. Mrs. McCall pulled her arm gingerly through the sleeve of a shirt and up over Five's head.

"How is a small metallic stinger easing such pain?" she tried to get up off the table. "What is in this liquid? My veins feel hot."

"Woah now, easy. Lay back down." hushed Mrs McCall, hoisting sweatpants over the girl's hips. Five sat for a moment then slid off the table onto the ground with a soft flump.

"My legs are not cooperating." said Five a little dazed.

"Well, that because they're broken." said Stiles, trying to help her back onto the table. "Oh, alright. Okay, back on the table, there we go. You can't walk yet, you have to stay put."

"Actually, her bones are mended already, but she still shouldn't walk, because they're pretty fragile." Mrs. McCall whispered to Stiles.

"This is very disorienting." Five said, surprised. "What potion is this?"

"Morphine." said Mrs. McCall flatly, attempting to gently push Five into a horizontal position.

"It is very strange." Five mused, looking blankly around. "I can't find my fingers."

"Here they are." said Stiles waving her hand in front of her face, as if for a newborn child.

"You found them!" she smiled happily.

"Yes! I found them! Now why don't you lay down and try to sleep, okay? We don't want you to hurt yourself, do we?"

"No." she mumbled, inspecting her fingers.

"No we don't. Okay. Just lie down." he urged, helping Mrs. McCall. When they finally got her to lay down, she was almost asleep.

"Stiles, please don't leave." her voice broke in panic.

"I'm not leaving, okay?" he breathed, winding his hand in hers again, "I'm staying right here, see? I'm not moving. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Promise?" she whispered, fading into sleep,

"Promise." Before he knew it, Stiles' eyes had filled with tears.

In a white hospital, ages ago, he sat alone in the hall outside his mom's room with his head in his hands. Running footsteps. His father. The Sheriff slowed, seeing his son. Then at a pace that made oceans roar and winds whip, the Sheriff stormed down the hallway. But it was too late.

Stiles could not cry anymore, his eyes were dry, he couldn't swallow, he could barely breathe. He could die in that chair, for the strength it would take to move would rival Hercules'.

Earlier, running footsteps, a loud beeping. "I'm not leaving, okay? I'll be here when you wake up!"

"Somebody get the kid out of here!"

"Mom!"

"You can't be in here, come on now."

"No! Mom! MOM!"

"Somebody GET THE KID OUT OF HERE!"

"MOM!"

Thats when Lydia screamed.


	5. Chapter 5: Veleda

**how about that season finale huh?**

**My god that was great! Now we wait for january I think.**

**WOOO**

**Alrighty someone asked why Stiles was so attached to Five and I touched on it in this chapter but the next chapter will fully explain it :)**

**Thank you so much my lovely readers!**

**As always, reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated!**

Five's eyes flew open. She and Stiles looked toward the disruption. Stiles looked at their hands, and then at her, overcome with options in his mental emotional debate.

"Be careful." and she let go. Stiles ran though the door, the deserted lobby and out the front entrance. The wolves, the Argents and Dr. Deaton stood in a line facing Lydia's car. Lydia was in the middle of the open lot looking terrified. With good reason, a pale clawed spidery hand was wrapped around her throat. A woman, a little older than Derek, had her teeth bared and her glinting yellow eyes set on the clinic.

"I have no use for this pathetic mewling excuse for a girl." she sneered, shaking Lydia tauntingly. "Give me the Runt, and I'll be on my way."

"I don't believe you." Derek responded cooly. The woman blinked.

"What have I to gain in lies?" she argued indignantly, her dark hair tossing wildly in the wind.

"Fine, release the girl. And then we'll give you the Runt." Peter called over to her. A few tensed up but it went unnoticed by the woman, who was inspecting Peter's features with confusion.

"Do I know your face, sir?" she asked, gazing intently at him.

"I know yours," he said, crossing his arms "Veleda."

"Peter Hale. Why, I must say there are very few dead men who look as well as you." she smiled, sweetly.

"The girl, Veleda." Derek barked. Veleda cocked her eyebrows mischievously.

"As it would please you." she sighed, removing her claws from Lydia's neck. Lydia stood, stunned for a moment, before walking cautiously away with her head held high. "Then again," Veleda surged forward, wound her fingers in Lydia's hair and held her steady. It one quick motion, the entire line switched from a cordial stand-off into battle stances.

Allison drew her bow, Chris Argent cocked his gun, the wolves morphed and Dr. Deaton... where was Dr. Deaton? Where was Mrs. McCall? Veleda grinned, her teeth glinting "This has been an awfully long day, what with the tracking and the chasing and the killing. It does stimulate one's appetite." she breathed on Lydia's exposed neck. Lydia barely flinched, her lower lip trembling.

"What do you want?" Derek called.

"I want my sister's head on a spit." she snarled, "But I will settle for her worthless form returned to me. She's ours." Veleda pet Lydia's cheek with one long finger. "Do that, and I will go."

"We know he's coming Veleda." Peter declared in a manner that suggested boredom. "And we know he has no plans of leaving when he gets here."

"Why didn't you say so?" she snickered "Pretenses are so dull, are they not? Fine fine, you return her and I'll put in a good word for you. Do not, and I will kill the child, and take the Runt by force."

"Sister." Everyone turned. Five stood in the doorway. It looked like the very weight of the earth was on her shoulders. Her matted hair tumbled around her face, her eyes piercing under her thick brows, she clutched to the frame of the door for support.

"Ah, darling!" Veleda crowed, releasing Lydia. Lydia ran to the line, and stood quivering next to Allison and her father. "What craftmans ship I must say, who put your liver back in?"

Stiles' hands clenched at his side, but knew enough not to interfere. Five stepped forward, everyone exchanged hesitant looks. She passed them slowly, wincing every other step.

"A friend." she rasped, as if the very word would cause harm to Veleda.

"A friend? Come come my dear, these people do not care for you. Not like I." she threw out her arms for embrace, but Five stopped short, just out of reach. A cold rage flashed in Velda's eyes.

"Why do you come here?" Five asked icily.

"Insolence does not become you, sister."

"Nay, nor shrewishness in you." Smack. Five's head jerked to the side and she fell to the ground feebly. Peter grabbed Derek and Scott grabbed Stiles, for both had lunged to action. Veleda looked down on Five simply. Five wiped the blood from the corner of her lip with the back of her hand. Veleda kicked Five in the stomach, who coughed and spit.

"Oh Five, your way with words causes me such pride." She sang, taking the front of Five's shirt in her fist and hoisted her off the ground so her toes barely touched the concrete.

"Why have you come?" Five gurgled around Veleda's grip.

"Did you learn nothing, Sister? You. I have nothing but love in my heart for you." she crooned.

"What place do I want in a heart that's black." Five said. "I have chosen my place."

"You have no power to chose such a place." hissed Veleda. "You will come home."

"No."

"You will." Veleda grinned. "It has been told, and so you shall."

Five didn't speak, her mouth clamped shut.

"You will come home. You will prepare to fight." Veleda sneered, "And you will drink the blood of your new found friends for their troubles." Suddenly, she seemed very young, sad and sweet. She set Five down on her feet, gently, grasping her hands. "Why do you hurt me so? Have I not been all that I am?" Veleda whispered, cupping Five's face kindly. "These people will never accept you, you have to come home. Please sister, abandon this foolish venture. The wolf and his comrades will fall and this will be ours, all of it!" Veleda hugged her sister, tears in her eyes, "Come home, please."

"I can't." Five whispered, gently easing out of the embrace.

"Why? What confidences have these monsters given you? They're lies, sister, lies!" Veleda shrieked, shaking Five earnestly. She held Five's hand and placed it on her own cheek, leaning into it. "Master misses you, do you hear me? Darling, Renu misses you."

"He does?" Five breathed. Her back going rigid. Everyone could see it, there was an immediate change in Five, as if a little of her pain, and the weight she was carrying had been lifted. The balance of this battle had shifted, Veleda brought kryptonite. Stiles felt himself step forward involuntarily. What was he going to do? Cover her ears?

"Terribly." Veleda nodded. "He pines for his little one, with oaths that would rattle the stars. 'Where is my dearest flower?' he says 'Why does she offer such cruelty?'"

"He said that?" Five whispered sadly. Stiles felt his palms itch, someone had better do something soon. His something wasn't so much as a something but an inability to do nothing, and he had a nasty feeling that he couldn't stay still much longer.

"Yes, and more." Veleda, wrapping her arms protectively around Five. Five chocked back a sob, sinking into the embrace. Over her shoulder, Veleda leered at the group, her eyes sparkling with malice.

"Five!" shouted Stiles, launching himself out of the line. Scott and Isaac held onto his shirt, but he struggled. "S-she's lying! Five, listen to me!" Five stumbled out of her sister's grasp, her eyes closed, looking as if she was having difficulty getting breath into her lungs. Veleda looked from Five to Stiles and back again, then a big toothy grin stretched across her face.

"Oh, but _this_ is _delicious_." she snickered. "What have you done now, sister?" She giggled manically, clutching her stomach. Five stood back, her fists balled at her side. "What sort of whiskered harlot allows herself to be bound to a human?" Veleda roared with laughter, her voice echoing in the atmosphere. "And not just any human, but _that_?" She cackled leaning against Lydia's car for support.

"I could not expect you to understand, Veleda." Five snapped. "You, who's idea of claim lies in fornication with a man who would eat the children you bear, and laugh as he dined. A whiskered harlot indeed, you _disgust_ me."

Veleda screamed, her teeth elongating, her back hunching, her nose wrinkling, she whipped through the air, throwing Five backwards into the pavement. An arrow sank into Veleda's shoulder, gunfire, and everyone launched into action. In the chaos - Veleda held Five aloft by the neck.

"Be still or she dies!" she snarled. They all froze, breathing heavily. She chuckled. "How pathetic," she said, looking at each of them in turn. "you and your bleeding hearts." She squeezed Five's throat. Stiles and Derek tensed, Veleda giggled.

"Hurts, doesn't it?" she seemed completely at ease, unperturbed by the blatant hostility aimed at her.

"She must have really made an impression on you Derek, for your bond to have lasted this long. But you," she turned to look at Stiles, burning with curiosity, "Twenty-Four hours and you can't stop thinking about her can you? Oh yes, you are spell bound. I can see it. So what she do?" she leered, "Was it a kiss?" Derek's eyes darted to Stiles and then back, his fists clenching and unclenching "Or something more. I bet it was, look at your blush! Did she scream? Did she beg? Did she cry out your name when you took her virgin-" Five spat, her bloody saliva smacking across Veleda's face. Veleda looked livid, she brought Five closer until they were almost nose to nose.

"You dishonor yourself, Veleda." Five rasped, "I do not need such acts to make people love me."

"You -"

Veleda gasped, she went rigid, her eyes burned and voices from unknown places moved with her mouth.

"_I will come to your demise_

_A white cloth is my disguise_

_I lived my life between the wilds_

_Neither earth nor sky would call me child_

_The birds were my companions_

_The wind and rain my champions_

_Daily I grew in power and fixture_

_Till snatched out of time by the trickster."_

"My dear, it is intensely annoying to have to dissect your words, when I wish to disembowel you." she sighed, cutting a small slice at the base of Five's throat.

"Too bad," hissed a voice. Dr. Deaton's hands grasped Veleda's, jerking them around her back, while Mrs. McCall draped a cloth coated in a thick powder over her face. "You would have heard us coming." Veleda shrieked and fell to her knees, and then to her side unconscious.

"Mistletoe." muttered Peter. "That was the riddle. The Norse myth of mistletoe."

Five, who had been dropped, now lay in a heap on the blacktop. Stiles dropped to his knees beside her, attempting unsuccessfully to lift her. She smiled softly and after a moment, used him to help herself to her feet.

"Whoo." said Mrs. McCall, a little shellshocked. "Good, good work everyone." she smacked her lips, "Now what do we do?"

"We take her inside. Scott, Isaac, if you could help me?"

The boys took a couple deep breaths to clear their heads of the adrenaline, and then, with looks of revulsion, heaved the unconscious Veleda through the door. Derek was gazing blankly and Stiles and Five, a far off look in his eyes. Stiles, who only had eyes for Five did not see. Derek rushed forward and scooped Five into his arms, glaring at Stiles over her head. Stiles shot him an exasperated look.

"I can walk." she protested weakly. Derek smirked down at her, "I'll carry you." If she wasn't so tired, Five would have pouted. Dr. Deaton chatted absently, asking Derek to place her back on the operation table and how many injuries she probably just reopened. Peter and Cora followed. The Argents and Lydia were already around back, digging in their car for some sort of restraints that would probably hold Veleda. Stiles stood alone in the lot. That is, until Mrs. McCall gripped his shoulder kindly.

"She's very pretty." she said innocently.

"She's a cat, Mrs. McCall." Stiles sighed, crossing him arms.

"Perhaps," she mused, "but my son is a dog, respectively, and that didn't seem to stop Allison." She smiled kindly at him, and walked to the front entrance, leaving Stiles with his very confused thoughts.

"Oh by the way, I called your father." she called over his shoulder. "He'll be here soon."

"She could stay with us," Allison offered, glancing cautiously at her father. "We have a guest room and she would be very safe."

With Five resting in the back and Veleda effectively retrained and in Dr. Deaton's office, the topic of the visitor's lodging had come up.

"Yes, but would she feel safe?" Peter objected, "Your entire family are supernatural hunters, you've got weapons in your front parlor that would take down the Hulk, let alone a kitten. We don't need her skirting off in the middle of the night and getting herself killed."

"She'll stay with us." Derek decided.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Dr. Deaton interjected. Derek looked at him ferociously.

"Derek, we need you sharp." Chris Argent broke in just as Cora said "She's a distraction."

"She could stay with us." Mrs. McCall put in, but Isaac shook his head.

"Scott is the only Alpha for miles, a True Alpha. Put them together would be like a putting a spotlight on our location." Isaac cautioned.

"Plus, you know, Dad." Scott grunted. "The FBI shouldn't come across a were-wolf and a cat-walker in California."

"Yeah, lets not do that." Peter agreed.

"Lydia?" Dr. Deaton asked politely. Everyone turned, Lydia looked a little dazed, she sat down in a chair and had yet to speak or move at all. She jerked out of her trance.

"I'd rather not." she squeaked. She cleared her throat, regaining some composure. "What will I do if they come? Scream?" she laughed nervously.

They looked at each other, at a loss. Stiles cleared his throat, but before he could speak there was a distraction.

"Then I guess it's settled." everyone turned to look at the door. Sheriff Stilinski, leaning casually against the frame, looked around the room expectantly. "Who's my new house guest?"


End file.
